The Sun is Rising
by Colonel Hawkeye
Summary: Maes survives being attacked by the humunculi, but there's some unforeseen consequences that are going to test his relationship with the wife and daughter he cherishes so much. Just how strong is the family he boasts about so much? [AU/Macia/Royai -will be MACIA centric]


Gracia knew that if the phone rang after ten pm and her husband was home, she didn't have to answer it. If it was after ten pm and he wasn't home, it was an emergency. However, this time, she could hear the grumble from her husband's lips as he felt around the nightstand for his glasses. He hadn't actually sat up yet, he was still laying in bed clad in nothing but pajama bottoms, tossing the shirt in favor of the heat of the summer. He mumbled something about how he was coming, but before he could move, Gracia was already leaving the bedroom.

She lifted the receiver and put it to her ear, whomever was on the other line was fairly knowledgeable in the fact that her husband was always the one who answered this late at night. However, having had nightmares lately, he hadn't been sleeping well, so waking him from his much-needed slumber did not result in desirable results. "Lieutenant Colonel," came the panicked voice on the other end. "It's awful, there's blood all over the street, Major Armstrong thinks it may have been the work of the serial killer after the state military-"

Gracia paled when she noticed a tall shadow looming over her. She didn't have to turn to know it was her husband, lurking behind her in his quiet, ninja like way. He leaned over her and kissed her head, taking the phone out of her slack fingers. "Jonson, what have I told you about code-words?"

"I fear I'm not following, sir." The young voice replied calmly.

Maes grumbled something through clenched teeth. "Next time you call here, you ask for the code word before you start briefing a civilian."

"S-sorry, sir. I, uh…"

"It's okay, Jonson," He sighed and sat on the couch, leaning back so he could stare at the ceiling. He draped an arm over the back, quietly listening to the kid speak in rapid-fire English. "Serial killer, huh? Does it look like any of our usual suspects?"

"No, sir, the blood splatter indicates it came from someone close by, someone they trusted or took them off guard." He paused and took a deep breath. "Sir, it's awful."

Maes turned when Gracia came into the room holding his boots and uniform draped over her arm. He hadn't even noticed she left. "Whatever it is," She whispered with a shy smile. "I would feel safer if it was dealt with tonight and not in the morning."

He acknowledged her remark with a curt nod and turned back to the phone. "Jonson, calm down and talk to Lieutenant Ross. I'll be there shortly." As he hung up, he paused only briefly to look at his wife, her head bowed and her arms slightly trembling in their cross-like pose over her chest. He crossed the distance and gently lay his palms on her upper arms gently, rubbing them softly. "Hey, why so gloomy?"

"I never noticed the severity of what you deal with on a regular basis. How are you so tough? How do you handle all of it like it's just hollow weight?" She questioned softly, her eyes a little watery. "How do you pretend every day like nothing happened, Maes?"

He removed his uniform from her arms, laying it on the couch as he wrapped his arms around her body, trembling with fear. "Gracia, I do it for you. I have no other reason but to make the world safer for you and our little girls."

"It could be a boy," She commented quietly.

Maes gave a small smile and kissed her head. "It's going to be a girl. I know you." Tilting her chin up so he could see her eyes, he kissed her lips softly. "And I'll be damned if she's brought into a world where she has to live in fear. I will do anything in my power to make the world safer and more beautiful for you and our beautiful family." His hands gently moved so that they were on either side of her stomach, feeling the baby move and leap happily. "She's going to be brought into a safe environment, no exceptions. Elysia already has to worry enough without everything else on her mind."

"She's four, what could possibly be on her mind?" Gracia immediately regretted the question when he froze tugging on his uniform pants over his pajama bottoms. He felt silly doing it, but he was far too lazy at three in the morning to change. "Okay, I guess she does have things to be upset about, but…"

"But?" He questioned, tugging the white shirt over his head and tucking it into his pants. "But what, my beloved?"

"But, I'm just saying, she's four years old and has no reason to worry about you. She doesn't understand. When you're gone for weeks-on-end at work, she just assumes you'll be home every night." Gracia grumbled, falling into the vacated spot on the couch. "She doesn't know."

"This is why I sheltered you for so long, love. I didn't want you worrying over nothing." Maes gave a frustrated sigh as he pulled on his jacket and buttoned it up. "Now, you go get some rest so that you don't make yourself ill. I assure you, I'll be home shortly." And with a kiss on the top of her head, he made his way towards the door.

"Darling," Gracia chimed.

He paused and looked at her. "Yes, my sweet?"

"You forgot your boots."

* * *

Seven am came quicker than she thought. The elder blonde didn't even remember falling asleep, or crawling to her bed at any point. She heard the boisterous laughter of her daughter in her bedroom, having a tea party with her stuffed animals. Elysia was old enough now that she could sleep in a 'big girl bed', at Maes insistence. And she often woke up earlier than her mother, but she was a quiet child in the sense that she would play until her mother awoke. Sometimes, Elysia would run in and wake her parents in excitement, but Maes had scolded her to be careful of her sister.

The woman rolled onto her side and looked at the empty spot on the bed, her heart sinking. Where would he be?

Without much delay or hesitation, Gracia went about her normal routine. Shower, dress, bathe Elysia, dress the child, make breakfast, and get her ready for the day. But today was different in the sense that a loud ringing cut through her thoughts and shattered them as if nothing existed. She assumed that the caller would be her husband. She was surpised when Roy's deep voice came over the line. "Mrs. Hughes?"

Gracia's hand moved to her stomach, feeling the faint movement of their second child off in the distance. "Yes, Roy?"

"I don't mean to disturb you, but, there's been an accident…Maes is in the hospital." The line grew quiet, there was an eerie silence flooding through the air. "Mrs. Hughes?"

"I-he…is he okay?" She stammered, trying to make sense of it all, suddenly feeling very ill. "Please, Roy, is he okay?"

"He was stabbed five times in his right shoulder…shot once." She could hear the hitch in his voice, knowing he was fighting the anger and emotions that came with delivering the news.

Gracia's voice grew dark. "That didn't answer my question! Is. He. Okay." She emphasized each word.

"He's in surgery now. They're doing everything they can. Would you like me to pick you up so you can see him?" Roy questioned.

Gracia nodded and frowned, knowing he can't see her. "Please. I'll…leave Elysia with a neighbor. She doesn't need to know just yet."

* * *

Gracia didn't know what to do with herself when she entered the hospital room three hours later. Her husband, the man she'd come to respect and know as the strongest man on earth, was laying in the bed, frozen in time. His eyes were closed, an expression of pain written on his features. It was a horrid contrast to the usual smile he carried. His personal effects were neatly lined on the table beside the bed; wallet, glasses, two knives…nothing she didn't expect to see.

"When will he wake up?" Gracia asked softly, staring at her husband's lifeless form. She eyed the doctor with suspicious glances, waiting for him to respond.

"It depends on him, really," the man replied casually. "We've stinted the bleeding, he'll make it, but it's going to be a near thing. He's got massive nerve damage to his right arm; severed in five different places by a knife of some kind, and enunciated by a bullet. It was a miracle that anyone found him before he bled out." The tall, dark haired man turned to the sandy blonde and gave a solemn nod. "We had to take his arm."

Gracia froze, her body rigid. She hadn't noticed when she came in the room because of the way he was laying, but now that he mentioned it, the white bandages over her husband's pale, unclothed chest were an indicator. His right arm was nothing but a stump.

Quiet eyes traced back to Roy, standing at attention in the corner, watching his best friend's each breath rise and fall painfully. As the doctor left the room, Roy took a seat on a chair on the right side of the bed. "I took the liberty of calling Winry for you. I couldn't think of another mechanic that would be able to fit him with automail."

Gracia nodded, her eyes dead. "Why are only two of his knives here? He carries three…"

Roy leaned back and crossed his legs, then folded his arms over his chest, and stared at his friend's stump of an arm. "You're his wife, so I can tell you this…I know he talks to you about work. Near as we can tell, it started in the library. He was doing some research about something from a case, that's when he was stabbed. He managed to get through the hall, dragging himself along - there was blood on the wall and floor to indicate this - until he got to the public phones. Amaria, the receptionist, asked him if he was okay. He seemed dazed when he spoke to her, saying something about needing a private line. Then, for whatever reason, decided not to. My best guess, if I know my friend at all, is that he felt whatever he was being attacked for was not something he should be broadcasting through the private lines inside the building." Roy paused and quietly looked at Gracia, noticing her skin pale. "I'll stop if you need me to. You look ill."

"It's the morning sickness." She whispered.

Roy sat up a little straighter. "Morning sickness? I didn't know you were pregnant."

"He said he was working an incredibly dangerous case, and that's why he stopped wearing his wedding ring. He said that he didn't want to risk us being a target, so he didn't want to tell anyone. This was just after I asked why he looked so upset when I told him the news. He was scared for months, but he wasn't going to tell me anything." She held a hand over her mouth, swallowing hard. "And now I almost lost him-"

"We'll have guards posted at every exit. No one can see him without my consent." Roy rumbled, knowing Maes would want him to watch over his wife. "I found him lying in a pool of blood in a phone booth near the middle of the park. How he got from the base to the park with that wound and not killing himself…" Roy paused again, his voice calming slightly. "He called my office, but it took some time to get through…he had to verify his code first for the switchboard operator to help him. I likely picked up after the shot was fired, all I heard was a soft wheezing and a whispered apology that he couldn't make it home, and for Elysia to remember that he loved her…they told me if I didn't get there when I did, he wouldn't have made it at all."

Gracia nodded and looked to her husband's weak body. He was so pale, likely lost so much blood, and she was so helpless to do anything but sit there. "Maes, he…he's so kind hearted. All he ever wants to do is help people. I couldn't imagine anyone having a justifiable cause to hurt him like this…"

"The only reason I could imagine someone hurting him is if he knew something he shouldn't have. I've been trying to decode his notebook, but it's not easy. It's written in a code even I don't understand. Anyone else who looked at it may have just seen a series of unrelated dates…it's like he writes in his own special, unique language." Roy paused when he saw Maes grimace.

Gracia sat up a little straighter, looking to her husband as well. He didn't seem to be awake, but he was rather uncomfortable. "It's going to be hard for him now. He always favored his right hand."

Roy continued the conversation without second thought. "I did notice something missing. When they cut his uniform off, they checked for personal belongings; they didn't take his dog tags off of him - if you were wondering where they were - but there wasn't a single picture on him. This is odd for Maes, he always has a picture somewhere. There wasn't even one in his notes…"

Gracia looked up slightly. "That is odd."

Roy gave a small nod, staring at his friend on the bed. "We're going to have to put you and Elysia into protective custody."

"But what if-"

"No, don't argue with me. He has more than enough money for us to finance the expenses. You're not arguing with me. We're keeping your family in protective custody until the person who did this is caught." Roy growled, standing to his feet. "Right now, Ross and Block are standing guard, when you're ready to leave, alert one of them."

"I probably won't leave tonight…" Gracia whispered sadly. "He has a long recovery ahead of him."

"He'll pull through. He didn't survive a war just to be gunned down five years later." Came the harsh response just after he walked out the door behind her. "Take care of yourself. I'll be checking up on you periodically."

When Roy left, Gracia leaned forward and stared at her husband's body. The nurses cleaned the blood off, but it was still seeping through the bandages where his stump of an arm was. It couldn't be healthy to lose that much blood in one go. They said he was lucky, the gunshot only nicked the bottom portion of his right lung, but it was too dangerous to remove, so they left it in. She pressed a hand gently to her stomach, feeling that it was the only comfort she would get right now.

* * *

Gracia was sprawled out in a chair rather uncomfortably when Maes awoke. He was in severe pain, but he wasn't sure he was even alive. If it weren't for the fact that he was hurting something fierce, he'd have assumed he died. Seeing his wife curled in the chair, he began to panic. Part of him worried for his safety, his mind replaying that moment in his head over and over again.

"G-Gracia?" His voice was raspy, trying to find the air to breathe. His lungs ached, but he wasn't sure why. Feeling his chest, he saw the mark where they had cut him open, followed by the hole. Then he noticed his missing limb and nearly screamed. "Oh God, oh God. What happened to me? Is this death?"

Gracia had awoken shortly after hearing his panicked breaths. She'd grown used to his breathing when he was sleeping in the bed with her - she had become familiar with this type of reaction because of the nightmares. "Maes, dear, calm down." She whispered, brushing a hand maternally over his shoulder. "It's okay, you're fine."

"You…" He grew gravely quiet. "It seems someone snuck in and stole my right arm. Whomever it was, I hope they needed it more than I do."

"Maes, don't you remember what happened?" Gracia questioned, kneeling beside the bed. She was concerned for him. Perhaps he blocked it out because of the trauma of being stabbed and shot on the same day. "I'll go get Roy."

"No, I…you…" He paused and tried to find the words, his voice ill with emotion as his breathing grew raggedy. "I was shot…" For a moment, as everything fell into place, he looked at his wife with dark eyes. "…by you."

* * *

_Experimenting, bear with me. =D_

_I'm using elements from both versions of the series. The way he was shot was from the 2003 version. The way he got away to the phone was from the 2009 version. I plan on mixing the continuity a bit._

_Lullaby will be updated after the holidays, scouts honor!_


End file.
